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1rsoldiersince2012 · 5 months

Text

Bound by Law (Matt Murdock x Reader)

Words: 3365 (chapter 40)

AN: pardon me for this chapter but... Yeah.

/slight smut/ minors dni!

40. running away is all I know

"Isn't it a bit too loud?" You shout to Pug, whose hand has been steadily keeping a hold of your wrist and pulling you forward through the sweaty crowd.

"What?!" Pug turns to briefly look at you, but then continues his journey towards the bar.

"Exactly!" You shout back, trying to not lose your purse and your friend by tightly gripping Pug's jacket with your other hand. You got out of your 5-hour flight just before noon, and now Pug was dragging you out for drinks, hoping that it would lessen your guilt and heartache over a certain someone.

"Oh, I see it!" He says excitedly, and finally you spot the bar, full of people lingering near the counter and others sitting on the high stools. The whole place reeks off rich people with big egos and you're a bit surprised that it changed so much since you left Los Angeles.

"Pug, it's full." You gently pull on his sleeve, but he still drags you near the left side of the bar, where a couple of guys were having a heated conversation, something about business and stocks from what you've managed to overhear in such a short time. Pug gestures something to the bartender and in a minute the guys are leaving their seats, grumbling something about rude service.

"After you, madam." He shows you the stool and helps you to sit down first, before getting comfortable on his stool beside you.

"You call me madam again, and I'm taking the next plane to NY." You send a threatening glare and Pug puts his hands up in defense.

"Okay, okay." He sighs then calls for a bartender. "'Sup Johnathan?"

"Pug, my man, how's it going? Haven't seen you here for a while." They shake hands like old pals and you can't wipe the confusion off of your face.

"I've been busy lately, but hey, I brought this beautiful lady today, it's been what..? a year since she last was here." Pug announces, suddenly making you feel old.

"Oh, nice to meet you, Miss...?" He extends his hand over the counter, waiting for your response.

"Y/n." You shake his hand and you're pretty sure that it smells like all the alcohol in this bar mixed together.

"Johnathan. You said you were here a year ago?" He smiles, the light of the bar illuminating his short, spiky hair.

"Yeah, and I honestly don't remember you." You say, squinting your eyes slightly. "Maybe you would've been a good catch for the night." You watch his eyes widen but then a mischievous glint changes the confusion.

"What about tonight?" He leans closer, trying to keep the conversation on low volume, despite the whole club going feral.

"Oh, Johnny, her heart is in another city, not a chance." Pug nudges his arms and John retreats back a safe distance. You only smile and order Vodka Red Bull, while Pug sticks to his usual Martini.

"Starting off strong?"

"Yeah, trying to forget some stuff." You huff a laugh and Pug eyes you knowingly. After you spilled all your heart in his apartment and in the taxi on your way here, he wasn't about to complain about your road-to-a-heart-attack drink order, because he knew how much you needed to get properly wasted tonight.

***

After the gala, you woke up the next evening, head pounding and a lump hanging in your throat. Your mouth felt so dry that you actually had to peel your tongue off of the top of your mouth. The first thing you saw upon opening your eyes was Foggy sitting in a chair next to you; actually, sleeping heavily, and you almost wished that Matt was sitting next to him, but the second chair was empty. Finally spotting the flowers on the table, you moved in bed, waking up Foggy.

He was beyond worried, immediately thanking God that you've woken up, and running around the ward like a little worker ant.

"Foggy... Please, you're making my head spin." You said, feeling restricted by all the tubes and needles attached to your body, "Can you lift the bed?"

"I don't think you should sit up so soon."

"Since when you're a doctor?" You asked, already annoyed that he didn't hurry to fulfil your wish.

"Since I-" He stopped, thinking about Matt resting in his apartment, "Okay, whatever."

"Thank you." You said when he finally fixed the pillow and you felt your body relax. "How'd you find me?"

"How'd you get here? What the hell happened? I mean Claire told me why you're here but how the hell did you get poisoned?" Foggy started wawing his hands around in the air.

"Who's Claire?"

"Your nurse. She recognized you from your old bilboard and called HCB and then got sent to us."

"Oh." You fall silent, looking at your fingers resting in your lap. "I...was at Fisk's party."

"What? Why?" Foggy looks at you intently, and suddenly you feel like a child who is about to get a lecture from their parents about a broken thing.

"I had to, there was no other choice. He gave me no other choice." You furrow your eyebrows angrily.

"Who? Fisk? Did he threaten you?"

"It's a long story, Foggy, I don't think I'm ready to talk about it..." You sigh, softly smoothing the covers with your hand.

"I'm so tired of all the secrets." Foggy grumbles under his breath, sending a look at the flowers.

"What secrets?"

"Nothing, just forget about it."

Probably for the first time since you and Foggy met, you felt him acting cold towards something, which was very unlike him. "Can you pass me my phone? Before the nurses come and send me through millions of tests."

"Sure." He comes close and hands you the phone, still looking at the flowers. You're met with at least 50 messages and 20 calls from Pug, asking where are you. All from yesterday. "There's a note for you." Foggy fidgets next to you and takes out the note, "is it from him?"

You take the piece of paper and read the words: "i wish it could've been different", written in nice cursive, although it was painfully evident that a man wrote it.

"Is it from that Wesley guy?" Foggy asks again, this time more demanding.

"I think so. I think he brought me here." You scrunch your nose when the hospital smell finally reaches you. "Remember that woman in art gallery?" You ask, eyes wide and, if Foggy wasn't wrong, a little bit wild.

"The one with dark hair? Who was telling me about that ugly painting?"

"Yeah, Vanessa." You say, somehow feeling strength return to your body, "she's with Fisk. There were all kinds of dicks in that Gala, all the rich people of the city, I don't even know half of them, but they're pretty high in power, I think I saw someone from the Station. Foggy, he has everyone in his pocket, we can't do anything about it. We just can't expose him because he's already three steps ahead and has it all covered." You sigh with desperation and notice a familiar face peeking through the small window inside your ward. You knew that face, he was one of the security men in the party. Marco notices your wide eyes and quickly disappears just like he appeared.

Foggy continues pacing around, failing to notice the unfamiliar person, much to his luck. "This is bad, this is so bad." He mumbles again, rubbing his eyes.

"I'm getting out of here. Tonight. I can't stay here any longer." You begin pulling out the needles out of your arms, quickly alarming Foggy.

"Hey, hey, are you crazy?"

"It's crazy to stay here, when Fisk has this place fully packed with his men, I have no doubt about that." You catch his hand trying to stop you and sit on the edge of the bed. "Please, let's just get out of here and I leave you alone, I won't bother you tonight. In fact, I'm going to LA for the weekend."

"What? After Matt had... The incident?" Foggy asks, making your hurried actions come to a halt.

***

"Oh, my favorite type of clients." Johnathan smiles and disappears in the other side of the bar.

"So, I've been meaning to ask you..." Pug starts, spinning the toothpick with olives in his glass.

"Yeah?" You take a sip of your drink and the burning sensation in your throat makes you feel alive again.

"What are your plans after what happened?" He looks at you, unreadable expression on his face.

"Try to stay alive?" You joke, hoping to avoid any serious topics, especially when you came here to get loose.

Pug doesn't get to ask any more questions when suddenly your world becomes dark - big hands on your face cover your eyes and you almost jump in your seat. "Guess who?" A deep voice says close to your ear, warm breath tickling the back of your head. Involuntary, you smile, ignoring the fact that a possible stranger put his hands on your face, most likely ruining your makeup. Your hands come onto his, slowly grazing his fingers and wrists, feeling the layer of hair and strong muscles. There was only one person in your whole life, who still did this childish game.

"Max?" You ask and feel momentarily blinded by the lights when the hands leave your face and rest on your shoulders.

"Bingo!" A voice with thick Australian accent exclaims behind you, and you turn on your chair to see a taller man standing with his arms open, smile on his face as big as the moon tonight.

"Max!" You shout and almost immediately pull him into your embrace, feeling the muscles under his dark green shirt when he presses you close into his chest. He pulls away slightly and takes your hand in his, leaning close to kiss your knuckle. You hold his gaze and shiver slightly when his lips touch your skin, disappearing just as quick as they made contact. Pug looks at the two of you, slightly surprised and almost shocked.

"Max? What a coincidence." He says, pushing his hand in front of Max and quickly greeting the man.

You quickly glance at his shoes and smirk. "Cowboy boots?"

He laughs, head falling back and exposing his thick neck. "You can take me from Texas, but you can't take Texas from me, baby."

"You're from Australia." You deadpan, raising an eyebrow.

"Well, I grew up in Texas, baby." He winks, looking around the place.

"Still got that cowboy hat in your apartment?" You take a sip of your drink, turning to Max again. Sitting in the middle of the bar side and managing the whole three-way conversation turned out to be a bigger challenge for your drunken self than it actually was.

"Even better, I probably have like 5 cowboy hats." He smiles, dimples visible on his cheeks, curls falling on his forehead. It's been only couple of years since you last saw him, but he has changed a lot. "Can't believe I met you guys here. I mean I'm here every weekend or so, but it's been too long since I was met with familiar faces."

"I'm not hiding anywhere, just getting drunk in less expensive places." Pug shrugs, side eyeing the bar for any signs of Johnathan and a new drink.

"Well... I've been busy with work.. in Hell's Kitchen." You cast your eyes down, watching the bubbles rise in your glass.

"That hole?" Max asks, not really surprised, but maybe a bit disappointed.

"Yep, that hole. It's just as bad as LA but a lot less fancy."

"Augustus you're still into the law?"

"More 'in' than 'into', but yes, still there." Pug replies, somewhat sourly. He wished to spend as much time with you as he could before you leave again for God knows how long but of course, Max was ruining everything.

"So, what are you doing here, Max?" You ask, saving Pug from another awkward answer.

"Oh, just making my way into the hierarchy of the prison." He says, eyes glinting, "I'm kind of an important person there."

"What, they let you sleep in the top bunk?" You ask, pretending to be shocked.

"Haha, very funny. I'm second to the head chief, so, you know, I can do whatever I want."

"No wonder you're so... Bulky now." You reply, eyes sliding down his chest.

***

You force him on his knees, locking the doors of his apartment behind you and leaning on the nearby wall. "Oh, I like it." Max smirks, kneeling in front of you, smiling. Leaving the club with Max and ditching Pug with a mysterious blonde was a huge mistake, but now you weren't thinking; alcohol was doing it for you.

"Wanna like it more?" You ask, fingers messing with his dark curls. He nods, eagerly placing his hands on your thighs and giving a firm squeeze. He looks at you, asking for permission and you nod slowly, because if you did it faster, you were sure that your vision would be lost. Strong fingers lift the end of your dress and Max starts kissing your thigh; you hold your breath, waiting for him to acknowledge the obvious under your dress, but when he continues teasing, you grab a fistful of his hair and push his face on your center. He looks at you from below, eyes unfocused from the alcohol, the sudden pull of his hair causing him to jerk his hips forward.

He knows how you like it. Or liked. It's been too long since he felt your body underneath his, tightly pressed together and desperate for more. Yet not long enough for him to forget how you liked your pussy to be eaten. Max eyes you one more time before lifting himself up more to grab the hem of your underwear with his teeth and starts pulling it down. You watch the scene unfold between your legs, still tightly holding onto his hair. As he pulls your underwear down to your knees, they fall on the floor on their own, making him smirk. You gently pull him back and he takes the hint, diving to suck your clit. You almost moan out loud at the contact, but swallow it harshly. Max sets a relentless pace, making you tug at his hair harder. He tries to hide it, but you can see the way he's moving his hips, trying to make some type of contact with his pants and you say something that surprises you both. "Touch yourself."

He finally pulls away, breathing heavily and looking at you with a dazed expression, your wetness glistening on his lips. You release his hair, pulling him up by his chin to your eye level. "What?" He asks, blinking more than necessary, perhaps slightly sobering up.

"I wanna see you touching yourself when you eat me." You say more confidently now, kissing his cheek for reassurance. You didn't want to kiss him on the lips and continuously refused to do so in the taxi. He puts his whole body weight on his palms on the wall to keep his balance.

Max groans when your hands start unbuckling his belt and unbuttoning his pants and you teasingly lick his neck. Max's eyebrows knit together, waiting for the desired contact with his cock, but you pull away, holding the hem of your dress instead. He looks at you in question, but then awkwardly pulls his pants down, exposing his already hard dick. "I want to see you cum when you lick my clit." You say, feeling slightly lightheaded when he spits into his palm and wraps his hand on his dick, groaning loudly at the contact, his breath near your neck tickling your skin. "Get on your knees." You say, watching him continue to stroke himself for a brief moment before you pull his head to your center again, letting his tongue do the rest.

You lay on the bed next to Max, ashamed that you just faked your orgasm, staring at the ceiling in thought. Both still fully dressed, feeling too hot for your liking after the previous incident (that's all it was in your mind), you were both looking at the same dried spot of yellow on one of the ceiling tiles. Max turns his body towards you, lying on the side, his head resting on his palm. You pay no attention to the shuffling beside you, still staring with an empty gaze. The alcohol was still buzzing through your veins, creating an unpleasant feeling in your head.

"What's on your mind?" Max asks, carefully inspecting your facial expressions.

"Everything." You simply say. Words were not enough to explain what was going through your mind, and Max, staring at your face, didn't make it all easier.

"I thought you hated Hell's Kitchen." He says and looks at you questioningly.

"I did." You sigh, closing your eyes, "still do."

"But he makes it bearable?" Max asks, his finger gently touching the scar on your arm, where the bullet grazed your skin.

***

"What incident? What happened?" You demand, watching Foggy stumble with an answer.

"He got into a car accident." He lies.

"What?" Your voice gets higher.

"He's okay now, pretty beat up but he's okay... At home." Foggy finishes awkwardly, eyes scanning the floor.

"When did that happen?" You pull up the jeans that Foggy brought. New ones. And they fit perfectly. If he wasn't a lawyer then he would've been a great retail worker.

"Last night."

"Were you even going to tell me?"

"The same way you told me about that party?"

Checkmate. Foggy has finally caught you in a corner. "Tell Matt if you see him that I'm really sorry about lying and... I hope that he's okay." You pull on a hoodie and grab your phone. "I'm getting out of here."

"Y/n!" Foggy shouts when you slip out of the ward, knocking the vase with flowers down on your way. You had to leave, you had to go to LA. You couldn't stay here this weekend, and once again, your gut feeling was right - it was best to leave Hell's Kitchen and Fisk, yet not the best decision to leave Matt wounded and alone.

***

"I think so." You reply, turning to look at Max.

"Jeepers, you're down bad for him." He laughs lowly, chest rumbling with the action.

"You weirdo, no one ever says 'jeepers' in a normal conversation."

"Well, in my defense, your Honor, this is not a normal conversation." He mocks and you slightly punch his arm.

"It's such a dick move from me. I didn't even visit him, and his best friend told me about the car accident. I think he hoped I was going to visit him."

Max looks at you intently, calculating his next words. "Do you think he'd want you to visit?"

"I don't know. I kind of wanted him to visit me when I was in the hospital... But at the same time I was glad that he didn't. I mean... We're nothing. We just work together and share the same fucking table in the office. And we had sex..." You rub your face and exhale loudly. "But it's not like we're in a relationship."

"Do you want to be in a relationship with him?" Max asks, a soft smile on his face.

"I wouldn't mind that... But you know me."

"I know that he's not me," Max begins, sitting on the edge of the bed, his back turned on you. "I couldn't win you, and I'm sure you've never had a thought about me that was similar to what you just said about him. So..."

"What are you saying?"

"I'm saying that he has more chances than me, which means that you two can at least try to create something."

"You're somehow both making sense and talking complete nonsense at the same time."

"Hey, it's the alcohol talking." He smiles, leaning back on the bed, his head almost resting in your lap. "But seriously, you should try it."

"Try what?" You chuckle, slowly messing with his curls.

"Being happy."

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